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Looking for Harmony
The Adventures of the Ragtag Team of Misfits in the Eyes of Tara DeMaro, The Halfling Bard (Day 1) When I first arrived at the town of Bareshire, I thought it was decently sized but a bit too empty for my liking. The state of the town didn’t matter to me after all; I came to find him and I would chase him down to the gates of hell if I had to. I gave a small wave of acknowledgement to the guard in front of the gates and walked through the gates. Part of me wanted to see how many jokes it would take to put a smile on their stern face, but I was here for a private matter and couldn’t afford to waste any more time. Wrapping the cloak of my disguise closer to my body, I headed towards the more shadier parts of the streets. If I kept my bag of tricks close to myself and stayed out of the way, I had a better chance of getting a little sliver about his location. (Day 2) Damn it, damn it, damn it all to hell and back! I thought I made myself clear that I am searching for an odd-looking Tiefling, not just an odd Tiefling. The herbalist in town looked like he couldn’t hurt a fly, let alone take a beatdown without crying. Although the lead was another bust, at least there is a tavern that sells dwarven ale for me to drown this failure in. As much as I would like to barge in there right now, my gold pouch feels a bit light. I’ll stay in this town for another day to gather gold and supplies; any longer and I feel as if I might get caught up in something nasty. (Day 3) The Laughing Griffin Inn was clean and mostly filled with nice looking folk, save for the two bandits that were harassing the barmaid and drinking sloppily. There was a gruff looking man in chainmail in one corner of the inn and a green-haired wood elf seated in the other corner. There were two guards near the gruff guy and a dwarven bartender scanning his customers while polishing the mug in his hand. In short, this was definitely not the time to bust through the doors and belt out a song or two to lighten the mood. Maybe I would position myself across the stones and play for spare change. Before I moved away from the window, I saw a high-elf waltz through the doors and take a seat across the other elf. Why in a dragonborn’s fiery asshole did one of those fancy high-elves walk into this inn? On one hand, he could be doing a stake out for the higher ups from the land of wherever he came from. On the other hand, he could enjoy a bit of bagpipe sounds for a bit of coin. He started to chat with the girlie across from him, so I decided that I should just come back later. I really shouldn’t force myself in other folks’ business when I got my own mess to untangle. I lingered a bit longer, staring through the window to make sure that there wasn’t going to be any more trouble for the barmaid, but I froze when I saw a bandit grab her ass. In a flash, the wood elf made a whip of thorns appear in her hand and tossed the guy aside like a child throwing a toy. Oh, holy horse shit, the inn exploded into a barfight after that. “Mr. Chainmail” grabbed the same bandit while “Mr. Flowy Robes” stood up to try and intercept the other one. Unfortunately, the weasel started to make a break for the door! Watching all this happen made me think, “I should try out my new song!” I fixed my sight on Flowy Robes, tapped the tavern walls a few times, and started to play the song that reminded me the most of elven tales; a song with a swaying but powerful melody. He pointed at the guy making a run for the door and whispered some words I couldn’t catch. It didn’t really matter because he stopped immediately and pissed his ragged pants! I had to duck for a bit to contain my laughter and flip a coin to see if I should involve myself any further. As I saw the coin’s shiny backside, I hoped that Lady Luck wasn’t trying to screw me over like she did with Uncle Veren. He was never the same after losing that arm. I climbed through the window, albeit a bit too hasty, and stumbled a bit on the landing. I didn’t know what else to do, since Chainmail and Flowy Robes already handled the two troublemakers, so I just stood there and took a better look at the Inn. The inside was plain, just like my impression of the town, and I could feel disappointment sink in to my body once again. Where’s the cheer and merrymaking? It felt as if it was long dead before the squad of knights came in. The head cheese of the squad boomed in the Inn, demanding everyone inside to show up in front of the Baron for questioning. Gods have mercy on this poor sod; I don’t want to see the dwarven mines after what happened to Aunt Holliebow. The two elves, the human, and I ended up sitting next to each other after the knights left with the two fellas. I didn’t quite catch their names because I wanted to drink as much dwarven ale as my tiny body can handle; I needed it in more ways than one. By the third pint, I had trouble trying to keep my head up. All I remember was the familiar sound of a pan flute before I conked out.